The Night
by Spider Milkshake
Summary: Why do you run, little maid? Who is it that pursues you? Don't you know we love thee? WARNING: BLOOD. Oneshot.


The Night

* * *

The night, ink and violet hued in its beauty, rushed by as a solitary beast pushed hurriedly through the woodland foliage. All was a dark blob of serenity, though at the moment the fleeing creature could take in none of the astonishing wonder of Mossflower. It was fight or flight time, and she had chosen flight above losing her life to that wretch.

One hundred paces behind the furiously running female, a ferret garbed in a buckskin kilt and tribal markings of plant and mineral dyes panted and coughed. He was getting no younger, and this chase certainly wasn't helping much. He ignored a leg cramp and a sting to the face from a passing persimmon bush. He appeared to be unarmed.

Suddenly the maid stumbled on a tree root. The ferret, agile even in his old age, leaped to avoid trampling right into her and spun, churning up forest loam. One sinewy silver paw snaked out and grasped her wrist roughly, causing the captured beast to squeal out loud. Wasting no time the ferret fished a length of rawhide out of his beltpouch and gagged her with it, stifling any further screams. The creature kicked and snuffled, lashing out at him with long hind legs, trying to trip him or wound his legs so he could not chase her any longer.

With a grim sigh the ferret gave the beast a sharp cuff between the ears, knocking her out cold. He was about to shoulder her unconscious body when an ominous crashing sounded in the brush to his left. Looking up fearfully, the ferret recognized the looming figure of a monstrous beast, a gigantic spear held in its hefty claws.

_THONK!_

The spearbutt crashed into the ferret's skull, and he collapsed as limply as a dead eel. The maiden fell from the mustelid's shoulder, but was caught before hitting the ground by the huge beast. Gradually a collection of a half-dozen other creatures filed into the trampled section of woodland, eyeing the downed ferret with curiosity and contempt and the female with renewed concern.

somebeast struck light to a lantern, revealing them to be a collection of five hares of varying ages together with a young but brawny otter. The maiden, held in the massive shaggy arms of a brutish-looking badger, was also a hare, albeit a very strange one. Her fur was a dark granite grey, and her ears were scarred and one had a piece missing from it. She was dressed in silks and satiny breechclouts. The eldest of the hares spoke:

"Hard job we'dve had savin' this gel had she not screamed when she did." he remarked idly, gently touching a deep scar on her velvet-soft ear.

"Aye," the badger grunted, glaring at the limp form of the painted ferret, "What shall we do with this one?"

"Kill th' blighter, I say," the youngest hare growled, brandishing a light one-pawed lance, "One jab's all it takes, send 'im where he belongs, wot!"

"Stop," the otter intervened, catching the lance by its cup guard, "'Twould be base murder, that. Y' sound like a vermin yoreself sayin' that, Tormley!"

"You cheek!" Tormley snarled, turning to the otter with hostility, "Th' only beasts you'll call vermin is vermin while I'm around, turnfur!"

"Enough!" the badger roared, freezing them all in place. Groaning lightly, the haremaid in his cradled arms came awake, staring at the badger's face in a strange look of fascination.

"Striped dog..?" she murmured as if in wonderment. The badger bit his tongue but tolerated the remark.

"Aye. I am the badger Roantus. You are safe now, little one." He spoke soothingly. The haremaid smiled dizzily.

"Oh, my pore brainbox," she moaned painfully, touching the tender place where the ferret's clenched paw had struck, "Who're you lot? Where did Klavis go?"

"Klavis?" the otter blinked. Looking down at the ferret, he put two and two together, "You know this 'ere vermin?"

The haremaid was silent for a beat, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"Aye, I know 'im. I ought to," she closed her eyes, "'E's th' beast who captured me so long ago, anyway. 'Is tribe's all I ever known."

She perked up immediately at the sound of the hares and otter's small noises of pity and understanding. Of course it explained it, they all knew that story. It was not unlike the vermin to steal babes of goodbeasts and raise them to be brutal and savage, though the good blood seldom lost out to the evil ways. The otter in particular shivered. He strode over and clasped her thin delicate paws in hers.

"They can't hurt you anymore, miss," he looked levelly into her eyes. "You have no reason to fear another beast agin as long as yore with goodbeasts."

She smiled happily, a tear threatening to drop from her doe-like eye.

"It's so wonderful t' hear that," she said in a quaking voice, "You don't know... how long it's been since anybeast held my paw in a good way."

"There'll be more times hence, little filly," another hare assured her with a grin, "At the jolly old Long Patrol camp we've got loads of bally paw-holdin' beasts for you. If you'll come along, of course?"

"Yes, 'twould be wonderful," she agreed heartily, and Roantus cracked a slight grin as he carefully set her down. He stooped to the eldest hare's ear and barked out a short whispered order.

"Stay nearby with the ferret. Pick a hare to stay with you. We can't bring that vermin to our camp when it might upset this young maid."

The hare nodded curtly once in understanding, then motioned to one of the two hares that had remained silent. The otter took the haremaid's paw and began to lead her gently, the remaining hares and Roantus following.

"I forgot to tell ye my name, it's Webbstrider by the way. You fancy leek an' potato stew? Cooky Bartho kin make a great mess of it when we get to the camp if ye'd like. An' you'll have to meet Brigadier Thomm, he's a good mate. There's so much you'd like about him." the otter rambled, "Say, you have a name? I don't think ye've tole us..."

"I dunno what my real name is." She muttered, sounding shameful, "But th' vermin of Klavis called me 'Friggah'. I never liked it..."

"You kin have any name you want now," the otter patted her paw gently, "Just let us know what to call ye when ye get there."

* * *

The voices receeded. Nighttime stillness and peace reigned once more. Klavis slowly came awake, realizing with a quiet curse that his paws were bound tightly in front of him with iron fetters. A weight on his neck told him that he was also collared and chained, probably to the big alder tree he was leaned up against. He craked open one eye and silently surveyed the scene before him. A small fire guttered ten paces away, just close enough to tantalize him with its light but too far away to gift him any warmth. On the opposite side of the fire two hares sat, playing shell and acorn wordlessly. The ferret shifted slightly, feeling the hard poking of his dagger just where he had left it. The flaps of his single garment must have aided the darkness, keeping the weapon a secret from the two hares.

"Got you." the younger hare suddenly said, indicating a shell he had just flipped over, "I win this round."

"Good for you," the older one grumbled, largely ignoring this play. It struck Klavis that the two were only loosely aquainted with each other, and that the elder was not fond of his lesser. Gasping sharply in pain from the bruise on his head, the ferret slumped over and examined the fetters securing him. The older hare looked over sharply.

"Settle down theyah!" he commanded, his tone none-too-forgiving. Klavis gave the hare a blank look.

"I am settled."

The hare gave a start. This was no gruff snarling voice. It was a soft tenor, light as a bird's song and just as pleasing to the ear. He shook his head roughly and glared.

"I'll decide that, y' villain."

"How wouldst thou do this if I am my own beast?" Klavis made a soft reply. The hare snorted at this.

"Because I'm in charge and I make th' bally rules," he scoffed. "You're just a vermin with a thistledown tongue an' no proper grammatical skills."

"You mistake me," the ferret came back even gentler sounding, "To my free will do I refer, not your pomp and status. E'en a General could nay tell what another man thinks."

"Must be mad, this one," the younger hare muttered. The older hare just scowled, finding something about the creature deeply unsettling. Bad-temperedly he flung another branch on the fire.

"Too much bloody seaweed grog, I say, flippin' pirate."

"You take me for a lawless brigand?" This time Klavis's voice carried a note of surprise, "Nay, I am none of this. You are a fool for making such a leap of thought."

"Shut your frog-scoffin' hole an' be half-decent for a bloody vermin, you," the older hare snapped, his tone up a notch in anger. "You're lucky you're dealing with civilized hares, not your own wicked kind! Now stop all this floopsy word nonsense!"

Klavis glared, deeply insulted. He shook his head.

"Thy shall pay for thy sins tenfold, cringing cur of a poltroon! You speak without thought, and make acts of harm against fellow beasts of the earth with it too. My word is my bond, and I tell thee both that one day you too shall fall from grace; then shall you understand!"

Not able to take any more, the older hare jumped up into a standing position and dashed over, boxing the restrained ferret in the jaw. Klavis's head was forced back and it collided with the tree trunk, but he continued glaring.

"Knave, you would strike an unarmed and trussed opponent. No warrior's honor do you have."

Klavis's words had struck a sore spot in the elder hare's soul. With an enraged huff through his stiff waxed whiskers, he retrieved the key from his belt and began unlocking the prisoners' chains. The younger hare stared in shock.

"Captain, have you gone mad?!"

If he had, he had no time to analyze his state of mind further. As soon as the bonds came fully loose, Klavis had whipped the hidden dagger from his belt and slashed his tormenter across the throat. The hare Captain gurgled, staring in horror at his own blood erupting from beneath his clutching paws, then fell never to rise again.

The younger hare reached for his long sabre, but Klavis gave him a sharp look and raised the crimsoned weapon.

"My quarrel lies not with you, young one. Pray it remain that way."

Without another word, the ferret backed into the foliage, vanishing into the blackness of night like a shadow within another.

* * *

That evening at the camp all went joyfully, never knowing of the events unfolding a mere half-league away. Hares of every color, tribe, size, age and description flooded out to meet and greet the rescuee. Though for a while she went as "Friggah", the haremaid eventually decided that all should call her "Roselawn", for that was the middle name of an old harewife who was doting on her all night. The cook for the small band of wandering Long Patrol fighters, named Bartho, had made a huge leek and potato stew on request of the otter Webbstrider. There were also oatfarls and sticky candied apple ring tarts for dessert, which Roselawn made a good show of enjoying. One of the hares, a fat stubby creature with flopped ears, struck up a tune on a harolina, which another tall skinny one joined on wood flute. Webbstrider showed off his otter pawdrum skills and his melodious voice, which although it cracked a few times while performing "Bees In the Belfry of the Fat Old Mole" the haremaid thought rather good.

Once the festivities were over the hares settled fast, most sleeping on outstretched groundsheets with not a trace of canopy or blanket. Roselawn sat up, worried about weather, with the fawning otter. They chatted on and off, about all manner of things: What their favorite reels were, favorite kind of cordial, best season, what their lives had been like. Roselawn spun such a sordid picture of her virtual enslavement to the vermin of Klavis that Webbstrider felt his own tale, of growing up beloved in an ordinary otter holt in Northern Mossflower, was inadequate and lacked the sufficient level of heart-wrenching tragedy and the courage of overcoming it. After two hours he dropped off, and Roselawn watched him sleep.

When silence reigned again, she stood. With the uneasy night as witness, unable to call out for it to stop, the haremaid stole about the camp, rooting through the knapsacks and beltpouches of each and every hare, finding every scrap of precious metal that was to be had. She gathered it all up, a goodly sum, and secreted it into an empty flour sack. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she gave a contented sigh and strolled off, giving Webbstrider's sleeping form a quick peck before she left camp.

"Turn and face me." A voice cut through the quiet night. Roselawn froze. Klavis was not dead, killed by the hares for the purpose of justice, as she had assumed. He stood flecked with small dried bits of rusty blood, a spotless dagger in paw. His visage was oddly calm.

"Father," the haremaid growled, her voice suddenly icy and harsh. Klavis nodded.

"Once." he admitted. "You threw that away when your lust for power took over your heart. Now you are naught but an enemy to our tribe. And now you have made yourself enemy of the Long Patrol as well." He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, "Thy life could have changed for the better, but you know not of this value. The value you seek is in the otter's coffer, not his soul. Your wickedness knows no end, lying wench!"

"Father..." Roselawn began to wilt, cringing backwards as if into her own skin, the guilt of her years finally sinking in, "Don't talk t' me like that!"

"Friggah hath vanished. All that remains is the Devil and his deceit." Klavis glowered, raising the dagger, "To any other, my tribe would hold trial. But you have proven that your heart cannot be saved in this world. Vulpuz save ye in the land of lost ones, pray your torment be breif, child!"

At the height of his anger and sorrow the ferret lunged, burying the knife in the haremaid he had raised from and orphan with all his mortal powers. The sack of pilfered loot crashed to the ground, spilling amongst fern and twig. Roselawn's eyes clouded over as Klavis caught her swaying form, laying her gently on the ground as she gasped one final time. She was looking straight into his eyes. Klavis blinked away tears. He took out the knife and thrust it deep into the soil, leaving it there. Short mumbling chants bubbled from his lips, and he rocked slightly to their rhythm. So it was that Klavis laid his once-daughter to rest.

All around Mossflower, night became peaceful once more.

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Like it? Want more like it? Please review and tell me what you think! 'Tis much appreciated!


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